Time Tells All
by Shadow244
Summary: When Melanie Bray is rejected by her family, she returns to Hogwartsa different person. Burdened with the loss of her families love, Melaniebegins to self harm. Spiralling out of control, will Melanie be able to find help from her friends, or herself?
1. Chapter 1

Melanie sat in the dark, silent room, tucked in a corner, head resting on her knees, rocking back and forth. Her arched back bumped into the wall with each rock.

_thump, thump, thump_

She knew it would wake someone else in the house, but the thought roused no fear, no need to stop. The young girl merely sat in that dark corner, rocking back and forth, back and forth. And so the hours passed and the sun crept up the horizon, splattering the dark sky with bright, yellow light. Rays of that light slithered through the thin curtains of Melanie's bedroom, bathing the floor.

Still in the position she had been in hours before, Melanie awoke, having finally fallen asleep. It was the final day of the summer, the day she was going back to school for another year, another year she was able to leave her would-be-family behind.

But she knew, even as she got up to the morning light and perfectly packed trunk, that this year, this year would be different, darker, harder. Melanie stared at herself in the mirror, at the pale colour that her skin had decided to take on, at the circles under her eyes, her blue iris's and brown hair. She stared at the lines etched into her forearms.

Pulling back her hair and slipping on a long sleeved blouse, Melanie grasped the handle of her trunk and heaved it to the foot of her bed. She knew her family wanted her out of the house as soon as possible and would have the taxi at the door by at least nine A.M

Turning to look around at her room, Melanie stared vacantly at the large stack of unopened letters on her dresser, which she had forgotten about until now. They were from her friends from school, who sent her letters almost daily. Letters that Melanie never opened.

As Melanie packed the letters in her already full trunk, her father bellowed up the stairs for her, his rock hard voice a thorn in Melanie's side, a sound she really didn't like hearing so early in the morning.

'You look terrible,' Melanie's father grunted upon seeing his daughter. 'Try smiling sometime, maybe that'll help.' He stalked off into the kitchen.

Biting her lip, Melanie followed. Her mother was making breakfast for, of course, her and her husband. Nothing for her daughter.

Melanie decided she wasn't hungry anyway and instead, waited for the ambush. It came sooner then she had thought. Her father took a sip of coffee before setting it down and laying his hands on the table. Melanie's mother sat next to him.

'You're not coming home again,' Melanie's father said in a tone that sounded somewhat relieved. 'We talked to that-that school you go to…they'll keep you.'

'Keep me?' Melanie repeated blankly.

'You're not coming back here, ever.'

The news hit the young girl harder then she had thought it would. Sure, Melanie had been thinking about asking the school if she could stay there for the summer, but the idea of her parents forcing her out of their lives was a huge blow.

Melanie stared at the kitchen table for a long time, at the way the colour of the wood changed, twisted into knots and swirls. Her mother cleared her throat.

'Anything you don't want or take will be thrown out,' she said, for some reason sounding angry.

Melanie remained silent, fighting back the urge to cry, to do something. But she remained where she was, bitter and angry, with her parents staring at her, the daughter they refused to love.

Following the events at breakfast, Melanie was rushed out of the house and to the train station, where she travelled through the large building, coming upon platform nine and three quarters. There she boarded the Hogwarts Express, which puffed small clouds of white smoke, and waited to be whisked away.

Sitting with her legs curled to her chest, Melanie stared out of the window in her compartment, vaguely aware of the growing crowds outside as more and more students arrived onto the platform with their parents. Melanie rested her head on the window and closed her eyes, tracing several of the scars on her arms with a finger. She sighed, biting back a wave of tears.

But suddenly Melanie found herself back to the present when the door of her compartment flung open to reveal three very familiar faces, three faces filled with anxiety and anger. Harry, Hermione and Ron stood there, staring at their friend, who looked back with expressionless eyes, a face so devoid of anything.

'I'm…sorry,' Melanie whispered, picturing all those unopened letters in her mind.

'what happened to you?' Harry asked quietly, sitting down across from Melanie. The other two followed, sitting down in the compartment.

'I…nothing…uhm…' Melanie searched for the words, the reasons for her absence, the strength to be honest. But all her hopes, her dreams and her strength were gone. So she lied. 'my parents took them away…before I could read them…they took everything away…im so sorry.'

'Oh,' Harry said, looking rather ashamed. ' I didn't think of that…I should have…the Dursley's…well they were…much like that…I…'

Melanie smiled in spite of the crude feelings that flooded her body. 'It's ok, Harry.'

The atmosphere from then on lifted considerably and Melanie found herself sinking back into the comfortable world she had longed for over the last two months. Not even the thought that she was now scarred for life by her own hand or the darkening urge to cut could destroy that breathe of relief.

Well, at least for now.

The arrival at Hogwarts was a blissful one. Melanie accepted everything about the departure of the train, from the cold rain that splattered her face and robes to the horseless carriages that bumbled up the road, taking the students to their place of home for the next year.

The sight of the castle filled Melanie's chest with happiness, something she had almost forgot about during the summer. But, the happiness was also accompanied with a sense of deep anxiety because she knew, as happy as she felt, that her inner demons were still there, untouched and not dealt with.

Something she planned on not telling anyone about, not even the people she cared about the most.

And with that thought, Melanie looked away from the window, to Harry, with his messy black hair, scar and glasses. To Ron and his gangly limbs, bright red hair and cute freckles. And Hermione, her bushy brown hair something Melanie was always jealous of and the intelligence that lingered in her eyes.

As Melanie looked at her friends, one after the other, she began to wonder, would they miss her, if she were gone? Would they think back at all, to who Melanie was, had been before she fell from herself?

Would anything change or would it all stay the same?


	2. Chapter 2

The first week of school seemed to melt away with ease. Melanie fell back into a comfortable routine by Monday morning. She was grateful for her busy schedule and even the large amounts of homework that was already being doled out, regardless of the fact that school had only just began.

It was after lunch, however, that seemed to put a damper on Melanie's hopefully lifting moods. Double potions class. Melanie had managed to do very well the previous week, with her spur of wondrous good moods. But that would soon change as she was ushered in to the classroom.

As Melanie sat down next to Harry, Ron and Hermione, Snape strutted up to the front of the class, his robes whipping out behind him. He stared down his crooked nose at his class.

'today,' he said in a drawling tone, 'we will be working on the most complex potion you will have met thus far.' Snape flicked his want and scrawled letters appeared on the chalkboard next to him. 'A potion that can reveal even the darkest, most deadly secrets of any person, of any calibre of magical ability. It is NOT veratiserum that I speak of, but something perhaps even worse, a potion that, if brewed correctly, can expose ones emotions, bring out the worst in a person and bring them down to such a point, that they will reveal anything and everything about themselves.'

There was indeed a rasped silence from the class as a whole, as they drank in Snape's every word. Melanie, however, was panicking. For reasons she couldn't seem to fathom, she was starting to get concerned. What if someone tried to use this on her? Would she go completely insane and go homicidal? Or perhaps she would turn it all on herself?

'you may begin.'

There was a large amount of movement as the class gathered any supplies they needed and set to heating their cauldrons. Melanie worked numbly, following the directions as best as she could, all the while her brain rolling with different catastrophic results of things that would never happen.

'Uhm, Mel?'

Blinking back to reality, Melanie looked over to Harry, who was staring at her cauldron.

'Oh shit,' Melanie's cauldron was puking out gobs of green and yellow smoke that curled and sparked the higher it went. Panicked, Melanie tried to figure out what she had done wrong and fix it. 'Damn, damn. Damn! What did I do?'

'You didn't add the porcupine quills,' Hermione hissed, her potion a simmering, acid green.

'right, right,' Melanie dumped in the quills. She knew immediately that that was a very bad idea.

With a loud bang like that of a fire cracker, Melanie's cauldron exploded, sending her ruined potion all over the floor. The whole class looked round and several laughs could be heard through the bubble of the spilled potion.

'Another failure,' Snape sneered, staring down at Melanie, 'tell me , are you the reason for Longbottom and Potter's equally dismal potions skills, or is it the other way around?'

'Neither, sir,' Melanie muttered.

'I highly doubt that,' Snape said, 'now clean this mess up. I want a foot long essay, due next class, about this potion, where you went wrong on it and why it went wrong. And do not be late.'

Fuming, Melanie cleaned up her spilled potion and repaired her cauldron with a flick of her wand. She left with the others at the end of the class, feeling downright rotten. Melanie knew that she ought not let Snape get to her like that, but she found it difficult. There was something with the way Snape talked to her that reminded Melanie of her father.

And any reminder of her father was reason enough to feel in the dumps.

That night was a lousy for Melanie. Her mood had taken a rather low dive since potions class and Melanie couldn't seem to shake it, something that Harry and the others noticed too. As they sat around the fire working on school work, Hermione looked up from her charms assignment.

'Is everything ok?' she asked, a look of concern on her face.

'Yeah,' Melanie said, tapping the tip of her quill on the armrest of her chair.

'Don't let Snape get you down,' Harry said, as though he had Melanie's mind. 'you heard him, he takes more pleasure in insulting me then you, I was just lucky today.'

'yeah, because I cant do shit worth in potions,' Melanie snapped. 'I'm going to bed.'

Again Melanie didn't know why she was letting Snape's comment get to her so bad. It wasn't like he was nice to everyone but her. In fact, what Harry had said was true. Snape was way worse with Snape then he was with Melanie. And yet there she was, feeling like shit for just one mistake made that day.

By the time Melanie reached the dormitories she was longer upset, but angry with herself for feeling down about something so stupid, when she knew others got it worse then she did. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Melanie stared at her nightstand, where she had stored all her tools from the summer.

Not being able to stand it any longer, Melanie opened the drawer and took out a small black box with a lock on it. Melanie moved to the dormitory bathroom and, locking herself inside, retrieved the key to the box from her pocket and unlocked it. Inside were several, paper thin razor blades, each incredibly sharp and incredibly dangerous. Beside them were surgical scissors, bandages and tape.

Melanie picked up one of the blades. She looked at it for a long time, pressing the blade against her thumb, thigh, palm and then wrist. She pulled up her sleeves and chose a spot near her left elbow. Melanie placed the cold blade against her skin and, in one swift movement, pulled it across her arm. The wound was wide and the blood pooled instantly, great bubbles of it blossoming up and over the skin.

Feeling, not relieved, but numbed, Melanie made several more wounds and leaned back against the wall. She heaved a sigh. All her frustrations, all her self hatred and disgust was there, on her arms, a physical pain that took away the things that made her so upset, angry with herself, the things that made her want to die.

It was those marks, that bled so profusely, that was Melanie's story, her life on her flesh.


	3. Chapter 3

Heavy rays of autumn light lay across Melanie's cheek. It was Saturday, almost a week after her relapse into old habit. And it had not gotten any better, only worse, much worse. In only six days Melanie found herself quickly falling back into her own shadows and her wounds grew worse, more erratic.

Melanie lay quiet in her bed, the curtains pulled shut around her. She stared up at the ceiling for several minutes before getting out of bed. Her body hurt. She had failed her potions test the day before and punished herself most severely for it, ramming her body into the cold stone walls of the bathroom when there was no one around.

Lifting her shirt very gently, Melanie examined the purple and blue bruising that had blossomed over her stomach where she had hit it repeatedly until she couldn't possibly stand one more. Her stomach throbbed horribly. Footsteps approached her bed. Melanie dropped her shirt very quickly and opened the curtains. Hermione had been making her way over.

'Good morning,' she said pleasantly, her ginger cat tucked in her arms, his squashed face turned toward me.

'Morning. Harry and Ron down in the great hall?' Melanie asked.

'Yes, I told them we'd meet them there.'

No more then ten minutes later, the four friends sat together in the great hall, happily enjoying breakfast. Well at least three of them were happy. Inside, Melanie was aching. The familiar pain in her arm only reminded her of what she had done the night before and the emotional pain came flooding back.

She couldn't really put her finger on why she felt so low, so beaten and trodden on. But whatever the reason, Allison knew she would need to use the blade again, especially because first class was double potions with the Slytherins.

Hermione seemed to read Melanie's mood as anxiety rather than pain.

'Just ignore him today,' she said encouraging. Melanie merely rolled her shoulders in a would be shrug. Before anything could be said, the bell rang.

The dungeons were particularly dark that day and when Melanie arrived, her cauldron was already bubbling with the potion that had been started before. Thankfully, hers was the bright blue that it was supposed to be.

'I don't get it,' Ron complained, poking at his acid green potion, 'I did everything right!'

'Did you add the porcupine quills,' Hermione asked. Ron's face fell. 'I thought not.'

Melanie listened with only half a heart. She felt terrible, lonely and lost. She added another pinch of ground beetle to her potion. It hissed and changed from blue to green. She stared at the green as it slowly faded to a dull, strange colour. Slowly it turned to pink, deeper and deeper it got until it intensified into a bright, blood red, shining and deadly in all its power.

Melanie stared into the red liquid, her pulse slow, almost nonexistent. Each open wound on her arms seemed to throb, far beyond anything she had felt before. The pain seemed to resonate through her bones, pulsate in her ears. She stared into her potion, unblinking, blinded.

A sharp tap in her shoulder made Melanie jump and yelp, nearly overturning her potion. She looked round, heart racing. Snape stood just behind her, a strange expression on his face. The entire class was staring at Melanie. It was dead silent in the dungeons.

'Are you listening now?' Snape asked coldly. His eyes swept Melanie's and the potion that bubbled behind her.

'w-what?' Melanie stammered, her palms sweating.

'Get yourself together, pay attention. Fill a vile of your potion and out on my desk.' Snape stared at Melanie with a vindictive, hateful stare. His eyes followed Melanie the whole time she filled a glass tube of the boiling red and placed it on the front desk.

'What the hell was that about?' Ron asked once they were outside the dungeons, heading upstairs for Divination.

Melanie shrugged her shoulders, her mind somewhere else entirely. She stayed in her stony silence for the remained of the trip up the many stairs, only snapping out of it when the heavily perfumed heat of the Divination classroom surrounded her, choking her back to the current.

Upon each small table in the classroom was a small glass ball, milky white fog floating in each, swirling amongst itself. Melanie led the way to the back table, falling into a pink pouf. As the classroom slowly filled and finally settled, Professor Trelawney emerged from the shadows, her heavily magnified eyes oddly bright in the dim room.

'oh no, she's been doing too much crack again,' Melanie murmured, making Harry and Ron snort loudly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

'you may continue from yesterday's lesson,' Trelawney said in her strange, breezy voice. 'I will assist you throughout the day if you need.'

'Huh,' Harry said, 'she usually always has something to say about me dying. Weird.'

'don't worry,' Melanie said, 'it'll come sooner or later, just you wait.'

Harry made an indifferent noise and focused on the glass ball on the table. The other three followed, all staring into the thick fog like lost puppies. It wasn't until Ron made a yelp like noise that something began to happen.

'the hell…'

The fog in the glass ball was shifting, swelling, changing. It seemed to grow dense, solidify. And there was colour too. The white began to melt into a soft pink. In less then a minute, the pink deepened and shifted to red. A deep, blood red.

The fog began to lose sustenance. It became a liquid, red liquid trapped inside its glass encasing. It frothed and swirled, curled over itself.

Melanie stared at the glass ball, mouth slightly open. Horrified, Melanie pushed herself away from the glass. It rolled effortlessly toward her, as though by magnetic pull. It fell into her lap, splitting open down the middle.

Melanie screamed as the red innards of the glass ball spilled over her, coating her hands and arms. The whole of the class jumped up to see what was happening the same moment Trelawney ran over. Melanie was on her feet in moments, blood dripping onto the floor.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared in horror.


	4. Chapter 4

Melanie half fell down the trap door and stumbled through the corridors, looking for the nearest bathroom. The smell of the blood was making her woozy and nauseous, a tiny trail of the crimson dotted behind her.

She held her arms out in front of her, running full down the hall when she took a sharp corner and collided headfirst into something or someone. Toppling to the floor from the impact, Melanie swore loudly, blood smeared across the cold stone floor.

'Miss Bray?'

The deep drawl was more worried and surprised then annoyed or pissed off. Internaly, Melanie groaned and looked up from under her bangs to see Snape starring back down at her. His eyes flicked from Melanie's face to the blood that coated her arms.

'What…?' He began slowly.

'Accident, not my blood, divination, big mess,' Melanie spluttered, jumping back to her feet. 'I have to get this off, excuse me please.'

'come with me,' Snape looked almost amused at the frantic way Melanie wobbled, holding her arms as far out as she could, a look of deep disgust on her face.

'No, I have to get this stuff _off_,' Melanie whined, beginning to shake.

'Yes, I heard you before,' Snape said, a hint of cold annoyance returning to his voice. 'I have a potion that can remove that much more effectively then water and soap.'

Deciding not to argue anymore and wanting to get the blood off her, Melanie followed Snape down to the dungeons, trying to ignore all of the horrified expressions she received by passing students and teachers alike.

The moment they reached the dungeon, Snape swept into his office, returning with a bottle of white liquid. He uncorked it and held his hand out to Melanie. She gave him an almost nervous expression.

'give me your arms,' he said coldly.

'Uh, I think I can do that myself, uh but thanks,' Melanie mumbled.

'I wont tell you again, give me your arms.'

Heart searing against her ribs, Melanie complied and held both arms out to Snape, the blood drenched sleeves of her robes heavy. Snape began to pull up the sleeves, exposing Melanie's red tinted skin. She noticed almost instantly that the cuts and bruises were near invisible under the coating of blood.

But that changed almost instantly. The moment Snape poured a drop of the white liquid onto her skin, the blood began to disappear, as though the potion was absorbing it like a sponge. As the blood pulled back off the skin, the bruises and scars on both Melanie's arms became distinctly obvious.

Feeling like it would be easier to jump from the Astronomy tower then explain the wounds, Melanie stood like a statue, still and breathless, arms still held out, supported in snapes cold grasp. His narrow, black eyes took in the scars and bruises, new and old before letting go of Melanie. Her arms fell to her sides, limp and numb.

'you may go,' Snape said slowly, 'and might I suggested you be more careful in your studies. I would prefer not to have to waste more potion for your mistakes.'

Melanie murmured a quick thank you and hurried out of the dungeons, nearly bounding up the stairs two at a time in her desperation to get as far from the Potions master as humanly possible. She reached the Gryffindor Tower in a matter of minutes.

'Melanie! Are you okay?'

Harry, Ron and Hermione were by Melanie's side only moments after she closed the portrait behind her, their faces full of concern.

'yeah, I'm fine,' Melanie said quickly. 'do you know what happened?'

'No,' Ron said darkly, 'but it looks like Harry's no longer the walking omen of death anymore.'

'Great, that's just fantastic.' Melanie sighed heavily dropping into an armchair by the windows. 'Not only do I have Snape to worry about, but now Trelawney.'

'Snape?' Harry said, sitting beside Melanie. 'What's he got to do with this?'

Quickly, Melanie explained her encounter with the professor and trip to the dungeons. She left out the part where he saw the scars and bruises though. The less people knew, the better, especially since her least favourite teacher already had an inkling of what was going on. That thought alone made Melanie sick to her stomach and urge for the blade.

'weird,' Ron said, 'he was actually being nice.'

'Hah, yeah right,' Melanie said darkly. 'I would hardly call that a nice gesture. He was still an asshole.'

'We should get down to the Great Hall,' Hermione said, checking her watch. 'lunch is almost over and I'm starving.'

'I'll meet you down there,' Melanie said quickly, realising that she was still wearing her horrible, disgusting clothes. 'I need to change.'

As soon as her three friends left, Melanie hurried up to the dormitories, stripping out of her robes and grabbing new ones. She looked herself over in the full length mirror beside her bed. The bruising on her stomach were fading to a dull green. She ran a hand over her stomach, poking at it.

Melanie felt a wave of anger and disgust flush through her. Pulling her shirt on roughly, Melanie ripped open her bedside table drawer, grabbed the small box from its depths and rushed into the bathroom. Breathing heavily, mind racing, she extracted from the box the thin razor blade.

Holding it steady in her hand, Melanie stared at herself in the mirror. She hated her face, her black hair and bangs that never cooperated. She hated her eyes and the way they always mirror her inner feelings regardless of whether she wanted them to or not. And she hated her body, her stomach and the way it bulged out slightly. She hated her weight.

'no wonder they hate you,' she whispered, 'no wonder mom and dad hate you. The way you look, talk, think and feel. Worthless…'

Pulling up the right sleeve, Melanie held her arm out and balanced the blade against her pale, jagged skin. She pressed down hard and pulled back.

The gash that followed was deep, blood pooling almost instantly. She made another one next to it and another after that, each one getting closer to her wrist. Melanie placed the blood stained blade upon the thin skin of her wrist, just below the bottom of her palm and pulled.

As the blood oozed, Melanie began to feel woozy and weak. Knees shaking, Melanie sat down on the edge of the bathtub, a towel pressed firmly on her arm. She began to get tired, no longer caring about the blood that refused to stop seeping down onto the floor.

Her head filled with a deep, confusing fog, Melanie fell back into the tub, arm extended out, eyelids feeling like cement. Weak and dying, Melanie leaned her head back against the tub and let her eyes close, the heaviness of them too much to handle.

Death reached out for her, its spindly hands reaching, black hair messy and upturned, emerald eyes wide with horror.


End file.
